


Wherever You Are

by lakeghost



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Fiona Pitch, Gen, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Numpties (Simon Snow), Oblivious Simon Snow, Sad Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Slow Burn, Spells & Enchantments, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Loves Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch's Kidnapping by Numpties, Watford (Simon Snow), Watford Eighth Year, fiona pitch is a good aunt, no sadder than usual but he's Not Doing Great in this one, the most gentle toast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:34:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28884699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lakeghost/pseuds/lakeghost
Summary: [Eighth Year Canon Divergent AU]"They held me hostage for six weeks!""Your aunt should have asked for help!""If you'd been there, Snow,allthe numpties would be dead.""Maybe." Simon sticks his chin out. "But it wouldn't have taken six weeks."-Carry On, Chapter 66Fiona opts for the hammer instead of the scalpel.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 2
Kudos: 90





	Wherever You Are

The window exploded, spraying glass into the center of the room. Simon jumped awake, summoning the Sword of Mages while he tried to figure out what was happening. Baz’s bed was still empty, taunting him from the other side of the room. Amid the glass was a fist-sized rock, with an actual note spelled onto it.

Simon relaxed his grip on his sword and carefully got out of bed to inspect it closer.

“ _I’m finding Baz - you’re coming with me_ ”

Whoever sent the projectile must have used magic to get it up this high, but the message was written in black sharpie. It didn’t look like Baz’s handwriting - this was far too pointy - but Simon wouldn’t put it past him to enlist his henchmen in a scheme to feed him to the merwolves.

Simon turned to the window, staying to the side as he approached. With his back to the wall, he peered around the window frame and squinted into the dark. His eyes ran across the grounds, catching on a waving figure signalling at him from the gates. 

Well, it was a trap whether he took the bait or not. And if he tried to go back to bed, who’s to say they wouldn’t just break in?

  


Of course it was Fiona. Of course she wouldn’t just send **a little bird**. This way Simon would get in trouble for destroying school property and probably cut his feet on the glass. He scowled as he closed in on her. Her arms were crossed and she was tapping her foot. Her boots were plastered with mud and leaves.

“Glad you could make it,” she snarled. Despite her expression, her voice sounded tired.

“What’s this about?”

“I assume you read my note. You can read, right?” She looked just like Baz in that moment, all eyebrows and cheekbones.

“Fiona, what’s going on?” Simon’s hand twitched at his side. He couldn’t just pull a sword on Baz’s aunt, it wasn’t like she had attacked him or anything. Yet.

“Like I said, I’m going to find Baz, and I’m mage enough to swallow my pride and use my resources.”

Simon growled, “I’m not a resource.”

Fiona huffed a laugh. “Of course not. You’re the Mage’s good little soldier. And I’d like to enlist you - on a temporary basis, of course.”

“Are you saying Baz is missing?”

“Baz isn’t _anything_ \- and if you so much as think about telling another soul about this, I’ll cut your tongue out myself. Slowly,” hissed Fiona.

“But you’re looking for him. And you want my help.” Simon smiled and crossed his arms.

Fiona put her hands on her hips. “Are you helping or not?”

“I don’t trust you.”

“Great, we’re on the same page then.” Fiona raised her eyebrows in question. “So?”

Simon considered his options. If he disappeared in the dead of night and his body washed ashore a week later, the Mage would probably assume the Old Families had finally been successful. Penny would probably avenge him. Was it true they gave you top marks if your roommate dies? Not that Baz needed it, the bastard.

But if Simon found him, figured out what had happened, he’d finally have some answers to his questions. And something to gloat over.

“Alright. Fine,” said Simon flatly. “You lead the way.”

Fiona squinted at him. Simon glared back, harder.

“How’d you get in? The drawbridge is up.”

With a sigh, Fiona rolled her eyes. “It’s a secret - follow me.”

***

Fiona really had scoured the countryside. She rattled off locations and spells as they sped down the motorway, and Simon did his damndest not to be carsick. She drove like a madwoman and kept elbowing Simon like he’d stopped paying attention - he hadn’t. At least she had decent taste in music.

Simon had been (unsuccessfully) casting **come out, come out, wherever you are** for the past hour, every few miles. His wand shot sparks and his magic refused to cooperate.

“I thought you were supposed to be good at this,” said Fiona. She slid her eyes off the road to ogle Simon. “At least my spells go somewhere. Are you keeping him in mind? Really focusing?” Simon ducked out of the way of an elbow.

“Keep driving,” growled Simon. It wasn’t that he couldn’t picture Baz. They’d lived in the same room for seven years, and they’d spent countless more hours hurling insults at each other, toe-to-toe. The arc of his brow, the line of his nose, the cold, swirling grey of his eyes - it was practically burned into Simon’s eyelids. The issue was the fact Fiona kept staring at him like he could do something, like she really thought he was the solution. It was alarmingly sincere.

Simon took a deep breath. He tried to imagine Penny, what she would do. Well, she wouldn’t have gotten herself into this situation to begin with. She’d have a better spell, something clever Fiona hadn’t thought of, or would needle her for answers to get a clue where Baz might be, or at least where he _wasn’t_. Fiona still hadn’t told him anything useful. He didn’t even know how long Baz had been missing.

With another deep breath, Simon closed his eyes and let an image of Baz float to the surface. He imagined what he looked like right now, off consorting with dark creatures or plotting in a secluded hunting lodge. He was probably sitting by a fireplace, those stupidly long legs crossed in front of him, a book in hand - _New and Exciting Ways to Kill your Nemesis_ , or something like that. He’d flip the page delicately and suck on his fangs - he did that when he was reading, sometimes. Simon pictured his hair falling loosely around his face, stark against his skin but warm and soft in the firelight. _Baz_.

“ _ **Come out come out wherever you are,**_ ” murmured Simon. He’d barely uttered the last syllable when the shockwave rippled out from his wand, slamming Fiona back in her seat.

“ _Fuck!_ What -” Fiona righted the car and shook her head. “I swear, Chosen One, if you just tried to kill me-”

“Crowley, Fiona, calm down!” said Simon. He looked at the small ball of light now hovering over the dashboard. It was billowy, a bit shaggy and rose-pink. “It’s just my magic. It … does that.”

Fiona was still shaking her head. She took her eyes off the road to glance at the light. It was still hovering, swirling slightly like fabric in water as it listed to the left. Fiona shrugged and switched lanes. At the next light, she turned left, and the light floated toward the center of the vehicle.

“That’s new.”

Simon shrugged.

  


The spell must have gone wonky. Maybe Fiona’s driving confused it. Presently, the two of them were sitting in Fiona’s car, pulled onto the shoulder of one of a thousand identical London streets. Simon cranked down the window, and the orb whizzed past his head and flew under the bridge a block ahead. It was swallowed up by the dark almost instantly.

“This can’t be right.” Fiona shaded her eyes and looked to where the beacon had vanished. “That isn’t even how the spell works.” She turned to Simon, grimacing.

Simon was already getting out of the car. “The light went under the bridge. We should look there first.”

“Why would my nephew be under a bridge? There’s nothing there - except Numpties, maybe. Hardly a concern.”

***

Baz blinked, disbelieving. As soon as the coffin lid was lifted, Simon Snow exploded into existence, filling his view and flooding the box with that _smell._ Simon looked to be holding his sword, but was rummaging through his pocket with one hand. Baz could hear his heart pounding, brutally alive in this cold space.

Without warning, a flash of light blinded him.

“Gah!”

“Baz!” Simon shouted. Baz screwed his eyes closed and moved away from the light and sound. “How are - are you - “ Simon cut himself off with a growl. _If this was all it took to get him tongue-tied, this was going to be an easier year than I expected,_ Baz thought.

“Basil!” Fiona appeared from the other side of the coffin, reaching in and gripping his shoulders. “Fucking hell - what happened to you?” She pulled Baz to sitting, waiting for a moment as he steadied himself. He pushed her hands away.

“Hungry.” He refused to meet either of their stares. As he fumbled the rest of the way out of the coffin, he didn’t have the energy to refuse Fiona’s help. Baz looked to the ground as he leaned against his aunt. “Thirsty,” he said, quieter.

Fiona adjusted him to get a better look at his face, brushing his matted hair back. She let his head fall against her shoulder as she jerked her head at Simon, still standing shocked beside the coffin. She started walking to the edge of the bridge.

“I brought you a Chosen One, will that do?” Fiona kept stroking his hair as she kicked a dead Numpty out of the way. Simon followed behind, lamely.

“I see your jokes haven’t gotten any better in my absence,” said Baz. He coughed, a dry choked sound.

“Is that what we’re calling it?”

“Why’s Simon here?”

“Basilton, I would burn this city to the ground to find you, you really think I wouldn’t recruit the most powerful mage alive?”

“Well, arson does seem a bit counterproductive,” mumbled Baz. He winced as they stepped out from the shadow and into the sharp light.

Simon jogged to close the gap between them.

“Go away, Snow.”

“Baz, what the hell happened?”

“It’s none of your business.” Baz wished he could stand up straight, turn and bear down on Simon, but just walking was a perilous struggle. Even with his face half buried in Fiona’s duster, the smell of blood was overwhelming. He tried to focus on the acrid burn of smoke and leather, and make it to the car.

“You were in a coffin, Baz. Under a bridge. Surrounded by Numpties.”

“My holiday was great, thank you.”

Simon growled from behind him. Baz smiled into his aunt’s coat.

Fiona was content to ignore Simon now that he had fulfilled his purpose, which was reassuring, but not helpful.

“First thing we do is get you cleaned up.”

***

Simon was relegated to the car while the Pitches stormed the service station. It was only a few blocks up the road, and remarkably, the cashier didn’t call the police upon seeing Baz. They emerged after Simon had finished making a list of what spells he could possibly use to defend himself if Fiona tried to assassinate him. Simon had clearly seen more than he was supposed to; it wasn’t unreasonable to consider. He peered out the window to see Fiona standing under the awning beside Baz as he wolfed down two sandwiches. It felt wrong to see him like this, all crumpled up and smudged. He should be in his school uniform sneering at Simon for being incompetant, not shambling toward the car in ill-fitting jeans and an oversized band shirt.

He folded himself into the passenger seat and fixed his eyes on the dashboard. For all the times Simon had followed him through the catacombs, how close he’d come to getting solid proof he was actually a vampire, Baz had never looked more ghoulish than he did now. Simon couldn’t see his eyes, but he remembered what he’d seen when he opened the coffin. Just empty. Then afraid. It had been so dark under the bridge, he felt like he must be misremembering the vacant stare carved into Baz’s features. Simon lowered his gaze. He could see the bony knob of Baz’s ankle where it stuck out beyond the hem of his borrowed jeans. He gritted his teeth. What was he supposed to say? Simon didn’t have long to ruminate before Fiona got back in the car, slamming the door shut behind herself, startling him back into the present. Wordlessly, they took off down the road.

“We should drop Simon off at a train station.” Baz spoke directly to his aunt, but kept his eyes straight ahead, locked on the horizon. Simon could see him clenching his jaw.

They were headed in the wrong direction to get to the nearest station. The buildings were getting shorter and more greenery sprung up as they put space between themselves and the bridge.

“It’s going to take longer,” grumbled Fiona.

Baz kept his eyes forward as he rolled the fabric of his shirt between his fingers.

“I can wait.”

  


Before long, they were twisting along country roads, crowded with unkempt hedges along one side and patchy woods on the other. Simon jumped when Baz slammed his hand on the dashboard.

“Fiona, stop the car. I’m going to be sick.”

Fiona obliged right away, skidding to a halt on the first patch of sandy shoulder that afforded them enough space to pull off. Baz wrenched the door open, crunching the side mirror into the hedge and stumbling out. Fiona killed the engine and met him in the ditch, guiding him gently beyond the door so he had some degree of privacy by the time Simon got around to the opposite side of the car.

Baz doubled over, hacking and coughing as his stomach rejected the hasty meal from earlier. Fiona stood with her back to her nephew, arms crossed, and leveled an icy glare at Simon. Simon didn’t know what else to do, so he stood firm and tilted his chin in challenge. He caught a glimpse of the blackish sludge dripping from Baz’s mouth and shuddered. He spat and more of the clotted mess was expelled.

Fiona turned away from the confrontation as Baz was straightening up. He waved her closer, pulling her into a hushed conversation too far away for Simon to hear. Fiona stepped back and raised her voice.

“There is no way I am letting you out of my sight!”

Simon watched Baz’s pleading expression from a distance.

“Can’t I just catch you something?” Fiona softened as she held his shoulders with both hands.

Baz shook his head and looked like he was going to be sick again. After a deep breath, he looked up and caught Simon’s stare. He felt a weight lifted off his chest when he saw the spark in Baz’s eyes. His voice was hoarse when he spoke, “You need to watch Snow.”

Fiona rubbed his shoulder before letting him go, sending the dark-haired boy toward the dense trees. Simon finally felt like he could move again once Baz ducked out of sight.

***

Fiona was on the phone when Baz returned. She’d called Baz’s parents once she was confident Simon wasn’t going to trail after him. She paced along the side of the car while Simon leaned against the hood.

Baz froze when he saw Simon, passing it off as checking for any traffic before walking back across the street. He held himself with the same irritating aplomb he always did, despite the situation. Haggard and haunted as he was, he still managed to talk down to Simon.

“So, when should I expect the Mage to come knocking down our door?” He crossed his arms and twisted his lips. Simon could see the fresh speckles of blood marring the front of his shirt. He could also see how the fabric hung off his emaciated frame.

“What?”

Baz rolled his eyes. “I suppose it’s for the best that my things aren’t in Mummers. It means I won’t have to worry about moving everything out.”

“What are you on about?” Simon knew he sounded stupid, be he didn’t care. Baz was being stupid.

“Once you turn me over to the Coven, I doubt they'll allow me to continue attending Watford. It would be imbecilic to allow a dark creature on school grounds.”

Simon pushed up off the car, standing to his full height. He felt taller, now; it felt wrong.

“I’m not turning you in, you git!” Simon winced at his own shouting.

“Isn't this what you've always wanted? You have confirmation now, don't you? Irrefutable proof I’m exactly what you’ve always said I am,” he snapped, his eyes hard.

“That wouldn’t be fair.”

“What do you mean ‘fair’?”

Simon shrugged; he could see how it rankled Baz. “It's not very sportsmanlike.”

Baz gawked at him for the barest fraction of a second before his face darkened in a practiced scowl.

Until today, they had always been on equal footing. Baz couldn’t be his nemesis if they weren’t on the same playing field. Baz was only in danger from Simon because Simon was in danger from Baz. Taking advantage of Baz when he couldn’t fight back would be cruel.

Simon squared his shoulders and looked Baz dead in the eye.

“When I catch you, it’s going to be on my terms.”

“Is that a promise, Snow?” Baz smirked.

Simon grinned back, triumphant.


End file.
